


I'll Be Damned

by littlewonder



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Confrontations, Deadly Sins Garak/Bashir Fest, Dialogue, Diary/Journal, Flirting, Groping, Jealousy, Kissing, Loneliness, Loss, Loss of Control, Love Confessions, Lunch, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Julian Bashir, Seven Deadly Sins, Sexual Fantasy, Sharing a Bed, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 05:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19370359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewonder/pseuds/littlewonder
Summary: You've heard of the 5 Signs of Grief. Now get ready for: the 7 Signs of Falling In Love (like a human). Or, being in a relationship with Garak is to be corrupted by the mythical 7 Deadly Sins.





	I'll Be Damned

1\. Lust

Ever since he’d met Garak, Bashir had been hot for him. His face burned in his mind, his eyes, his smile, his… hands. He knew he was a spy, and he knew much about him was a mystery. But that only made him even more alluring.

He was going mad thinking about him.

His body, and especially his shoulders, tingled with thought of Garak’s hands on them. He knew he shouldn’t want him like this ― he knew the man couldn’t be trusted ― but he was going crazy thinking of where else Garak might touch him, how it would feel, how it could it be.

Now, it was all he could do not to think about writhing underneath Garak as he penetrated him, not to misconstrue everything Garak said to him to have sexual undertones when the subtext behind his words turned out to hold an entirely different meaning altogether. He shouldn’t want him, or trust him, but Bashir’s body practically called to him.

What Bashir wouldn’t give to know if Garak really wanted him. But it seemed Bashir would continue to be left guessing.

Up until now, he had veiled these obsessive thoughts by switching targets; Jadzia had been his first target when he came to this station, and she was his friend. What better way to try to move on than finding someone else to obsess over?

But she wasn’t much better a target than Garak was. And it wasn’t her Bashir thought of when he stepped into the high frequency sonic shower, as much as he tried; it was Garak.

Sonic waves vibrated on his skin, stimulating his cock and he took it in hand to gently stroke it. He imagined Jadzia, at first, naked, stroking his cock. But soon that image morphed into Garak, who did much more than stroke his cock. As the sonic waves vibrated every inch of skin, he imagined Garak, sliding his hand up his arms, kissing his neck, grabbing his arse. He imagined Garak taking Bashir’s cock inside of him.

Closing his eyes, Bashir swayed on the spot as he pumped his cock, imagining himself in Garak’s slick hole, thrusting, feeling Garak’s muscles contract around him, pulling every bit of pleasure out of him.

"Oh… Garak…” he moaned quietly.

As he continued to wank his cock, he imagined Garak’s closed expression as he too moaned in pleasure at what Bashir was doing.

What am I doing? Bashir thought, even as he moaned in pleasure at the sensations he was feeling. 

He tried to focus on Jadzia again, on her moans, and it was a pleasant enough picture. But it was vague, barely there, and soon his mind shifted back to Garak, whose guttural moans and ministrations as he bucked his hips forward into Bashir were far more endearing and intimate than the wanton but shallow moans of Jadzia.

Bashir gave in to the image of Garak, as he bucked his hips inside of his fist, and then thrusted into it, as he imagined thrusting into Garak.

Faster and faster he snapped his hips, until he imagined coming inside Garak and, several moments later after the repetition of that image in his mind, he finally came.

Pressing a hand against the wall as he got back his breath, he looked down and watched as the sonic waves moved his cum down the drain.

At the sight of this evidence of his arousal for Garak, he closed his eyes. He knew the next time he saw Garak, he would think of little else; perhaps he wouldn’t be able to look at him the same way.

But that didn’t mean he would allow this moment to stand in the way of their friendship. It would just make it harder, that’s all.

2\. Gluttony

Food was an escape. He shovelled it down, as if to compensate for the sex he wasn’t getting with Garak. But he ate too ravenously, and that only led Garak to complain about how quickly Bashir ate.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand the complaint. If Bashir only ate slower, they could spend more time together, and that was something Bashir wanted as much as Garak. But he couldn’t help it. He could hardly contain the need inside him to do something, at least.

Maybe the lights were too bright, or maybe it was the chaotic rhythm of his heart whenever he looked at Garak. But every lunch, he raced through his meal as he talked to Garak, and Garak’s disapproving expression almost gave him pause. But he couldn’t help how he felt.

“My dear, one of these days, I really think you ought to slow down and savour your food."

Bashir looked up at him, smiling. He couldn’t help the affection he felt for Garak when he said that.

“What?” said Garak. “What is that look for?"

“You may be right,” said Bashir. “Gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins."

“Deadly sins?!” balked Garak.

“From the Bible. The bible is a religious text for an Earth religion called Christianity. Have you ever heard of it?”

“Why, no. Although, if I’m not mistaken, the word bible seems reminiscent of one of your old Earth words for book."

“That’s right. And in it, it lists seven deadly sins. They were greed, wrath, gluttony, sloth, lust, pride, and envy.”

“Why, they’re nothing but emotions! Quite surprising, considering the way humans act much of the time."

“I suppose humans, some humans, considered such things to be… undesirable,” said Bashir with some distaste.

“If you don’t approve, then why bring it up at all?"

“What you said simply reminded me of it, that’s all,” said Bashir. “I suppose my behaviour is rather gluttonous. It would probably be better to slow down.”

“Far be it from me to agree with one of your Earth texts, but perhaps that would be wise."

“Oh, I know you would never dare unless you had something to gain. In this case, the pleasure of my company."

“I must say, though, it’s very curious that an ancient civilisation would have such an arbitrary rule! And you call Cardassian literature propaganda! If the ancient people of Earth, as I suspect, carried a dark secret in their DNA, if they truly once starved to the point of desperation, then such a rule would seem to keep them in their place, never rising above whatever powers kept them in poverty in the first place."

Bashir looked at him in surprise. “That’s a good point."  
“Then why are you surprised? Had you come to set some store by this Bible, yourself?"

“No, of course not. I just thought… Cardassia seems to have its own ways of keeping its people in their place. I was just surprised that you―”

“Were perceptive enough to pick it up? You perhaps believed that I was ignorant of the ill actions of the state? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, doctor, but I’m well aware of it."

"Then how could you go along with it?” demanded Bashir.

“Sometimes, such actions are necessary for the good of the state."

It was beliefs like this that Garak held which gave Bashir serious pause over his attraction to him. How could he ever condone such things?

3\. Wrath

Bashir was a selfless man, first and foremost; it’s why he became a doctor. So while Garak was his patient, suffering withdrawal from the wire in his head, he had put aside all his personal feelings for the sake of his patient.

But the truth was, after everything Garak had told him in that time, Bashir had felt hurt; at his first confession, at his seeming death wish, at his reliance not on him but on Quark of all people, and at the idea that they were not actually friends and that Garak didn’t actually like him.

Hurt, because against all reason, he had actually come to care for this man. But that hurt became buried, under rage and calm alike. Yes, he was mad at everything Garak had put him through, but he had also been his patient to whom he owed empathetic duty.  
Now that it all was over, that mask of duty remained in place, the anger he’d felt down to a simmer just beneath the surface.

But that didn’t make it any easier to take when Garak just sat there smiling, as if nothing had happened, when everything Bashir had seen was affecting him so deeply.

He didn’t know how he did that. It was goddamn frustrating.

“How do you do that?” Garak asked one night.

Bashir was taken aback. “Do what?"

“Act so forgiving, when I am giving you no good reason to be."

Bashir’s hand was on Garak’s shoulder as he had led the inebriated Cardassian down the corridor to his quarters. Since losing the wire, he had struggled to re-adjust. The look in his eyes now was a little lost.

“I don’t think about myself,” said Bashir, after a stunned silence. “What is really important is the well-being of my patient. Or in this case…"

For a moment, both of them stood in silence, looking for the word for what they were.

“…my friend,” said Bashir.

Garak looked back at him, expression flashing with disappointment before settling on acceptance.

“Think about yourself,” said Garak. “Just this once."  
“Garak, let’s get you to your quarters―”

“No,” said Garak, refusing to be pulled along. “I mean it."

“Perhaps somewhere more private."

“It always pays to be paranoid, my dear doctor, but not this time. I need you to tell me. Please tell me."

“Tell you what?"

“Tell me what you’ve wanted to say ever since the incident with the wire in my head."

For a moment, they stood in silence. Then Bashir said, “Garak, I can’t―”

“Don’t run away ―”

“I’m not,” said Bashir.

They both stood there staring at each other. They had both heard the anger in that one note.

Garak smiled. "See?"

“Please, Garak, let’s just go into your quarters and talk."

“Begging? You must truly be scared,” said Garak. After a pause, he conceded, “Alright, doctor. I will oblige you. Take me to my quarters."

So Bashir led Garak into his quarters and didn’t flee the site. Instead, he ordered a medical tricorder from his replicator and measured his blood-alcohol levels.

“Always the caretaker,” said Garak, “Stop,” he said, taking Bashir's wrist. “Tell me."

"Please."

“Tell me,” said Garak.

“I don’t want you to hate me."

“I couldn’t hate you,” said Garak. “I’ve tried."

For a moment, that gave Bashir pause. “You tried to hate me?"

“Does that upset you?"

“Of course it does! I couldn’t… I couldn’t bare it if you hated me. I never told you this, before. But it really hurt when you said you hated me."

Bashir put down the tricorder and paced the room.

"What else?"

“What else?!” said Bashir. “I was so worried about you, was scared of losing you. I felt so angry at you, because I felt that you dying was something you were doing to me. I was furious that you were trying to leave me because you ― didn’t trust me, or even like me."

“Tell me about your anger."

“Goddammit, Garak, how could you do this to me?” Bashir demanded, running a hand through his hair. “I l-… I can’t lose you."

“Go on."

 _I love you._ The words had almost escaped him. He supposed there was no use in denying any longer. Whatever else he was, Garak was still good. He had to believe that.

And that was the core of this all along, wasn’t it? His love.

“For fuck’s sake, that’s all you have to say? You are enraging! Is this what you want, to consume my anger like a holo-novel? Don’t you care? Is my pain entertaining to you? I almost lost you! And I… You don’t even seem to care."

“Doctor, you of all people ought to know me well enough by now to know that I lie. Of course I said I hated you; in that moment I really needed to hate you."

“Of course," said Bashir crossly.

“Even after our moment in the Infirmary, have you been wondering to yourself whether I hate you?"

“No. No, of course not,” said Bashir. “It’s just ―”

"Yes?"

Bashir sighed, pausing. “I understand that being here isn’t exactly easy for you. And maybe it was selfish of me to want to keep you here alive…”

“Oh, doctor, you were doing so well,” said Garak. “If you must know, I did not want you to do this for my own entertainment. I simply wanted to hear your side of the story, as I showed you mine."

“Oh,” said Bashir. “Well in that case ―”

“In that case,” said Garak, “I don’t want to hear you holding anything back, like you are now. You are the one who was not so many days ago appalled that I could easily act like it was nothing. We are perfectly alone. Show me your true feelings."

He didn’t want to show Garak the fullness of his feelings for him. But of course, all that left him with was anger. Anger like that which had so hurt him while Garak was in withdrawal. But if this was what Garak wanted, it was what he would get.

Bashir walked forward, pinning Garak into the back of his couch. “Everything you said,” said Bashir poisonously, “I didn’t lie when I told you I forgave you. But all your angry words to me rankle, they echo in every inch of me. The thought that you hate me… stings. There, is that what you wanted? I hate what you said, and yes, I am angry at you for it. 

"But what’s worse than all of that, is what you did next. You tried to leave! I am a doctor, and more than that, I’m your friend. How dare you try to leave me! You didn’t even try to talk to me! You didn’t trust me. And it makes me wonder if we’re even friends. Do you even like me? Can you even stand to be around me? I don’t think I could bear it if you hated me. But you told me you do. And I can’t get that out of my head. You hate me. And some part of me…"

“Yes?” said Garak, less polite now and more caught in tense anticipation.

“Some part of me… wonders if it’s true. Wonders if you were just using me for… that forgiveness you wanted. So that you could have some excuse."

“It’s not,” said Garak.

Bashir squeezed Garak's arms, rage barely held at bay coursing through him. “How do I know that?” he said.

“If you weren’t special to me, I would never have revealed so much of myself to you. Not even if I was dying."

Bashir wanted to punch something. He loved Garak so much, but he hated that he did. So he let Garak go and fled from the room.

He’d never forgive himself if he hurt Garak.

4\. Greed

He found Garak in a little nook at Quark’s, and came to sit down next to him. Flushed from alcohol, Bashir snuggled in close to Garak, holding his arm like a lover.

There was lust in his body, but it was more than that. He wanted Garak, in every way it was possible to have Garak. Romantically, sexually, sensually. He wanted to know everything there was to know about him. He wanted to be by his side whenever possible.

Bashir groped Garak’s leg.

“My dear…” said Garak.

“Mm, yeah,” whispered Bashir. He nibbled at Garak’s ear ridges. “Keep calling me that."

Instead, Garak panted and moaned as Bashir continued to touch him. Soon, Bashir was rubbing up the front of Garak’s pants with his hand.

“Where is it?” he asked.

"Hidden."

“Mm,” said Bashir. “Like the rest of you… I want to see you, touch you… all of you."

“Not here.”

“I’m perfectly happy to move to your quarters."

“Do you think you could keep your hands to yourself until we get there?"

“Mm. Impossible."

“Then we do have a problem."

“What’s the matter, Garak? Afraid to be seen with me?"

“I’d just rather be discreet."

“You don’t want the others to know how dirty you are? Don’t want my reputation, as a slut?"

"Indeed."

“Well, you’d better get used to it,” said Bashir. “I plan to have you, in every way I can. Come on, let’s go."

Garak stood up, taking Bashir’s hands off him. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll just leave."

“But Garak ―”

"Please."

Bashir let him go.

He felt lonely, and horny, in his wake. Bashir turned into the seating, and palmed himself.

Five restless minutes passed before he decided to follow Garak. He was sure he’d gone back to his quarters, and if this was all a matter of discretion, it had surely been long enough by now.

Once he arrived, he pressed the com to Garak’s quarters. “Garak. It’s me, Julian. Let me in. Please?"

The door opened, and he moved inside. The door closed behind him.

"Garak?"

Garak emerged out of the shadows towards Bashir. “I’m afraid, doctor, that whatever it is you wish from me, I can’t oblige you. Not tonight."

“Why not?” asked Bashir, genuinely concerned yet restless with need.

“I don’t feel especially in the mood to be treated like a body to be used."

"Garak…” said Bashir, “you’re so much more than that to me."

“A mind, then. A heart. Whatever your intentions, I just can’t do it."

“Why ever not?"

“Because,” said Garak. “I don’t deserve it. I’m unfuckable, unreachable, unlovable. I have no worth to you, as I am. I am absolutely useless as a thing."

“You’re not ―”

“No, I am. So if you have a need of someone, find someone else to fulfill your desires. I cannot."

Bashir stood there, but didn’t leave. He didn’t want anyone else. He wanted Garak. Needed him, because he loved him. He couldn’t just give up that easily. Not without at least trying.

“Garak, I don’t want anyone else,” said Bashir. “I don’t want anyone like I want you. You’re beautiful ―”

“Please, doctor,” said Garak. “I don’t want or need such platitudes. I’m not, and that’s okay. I don’t need anything else but to be what I’ve always been."

“Alone?” asked Bashir.

"Exactly."

“I don’t believe you,” said Bashir. “I think you need me exactly the same way that I need you. You just don’t know it yet."

“Frankly, doctor, I don’t believe you know me that well, and I find your attitude quite condescending. No one, least of all you, knows what’s in my heart. So why don’t you just leave?"

For a moment, Bashir didn’t quite know what to say. Maybe Garak was right, and they didn’t share a need for each other.

But then he remembered his words at the bar. “But you flirted back. At the bar, when I was being so obvious."

“I’ll admit, for a moment you were a tempting target. But I don’t deserve you. And I’m not at all interested."

“But you were,” said Bashir. “For a moment there.”

Garak was silent.

“You were!" cried Bashir.

“Get out.”

“What? But surely, Garak ―”

“Get out of here!” insisted Garak. “Before I…"

“Before you what?” said Bashir. “Before I tempt you? Before you really start to want me?"

“Get out!"

Bashir couldn’t do it, couldn’t bear the thought on missing out. “Please,” he begged.

“No,” said Garak. His final word.

His whole body aching with need, yearning to reach out, Bashir knew it was greedy to stay. It was even greedy to want him this way. It would be so much easier to stay; it would take all his strength to leave right now. Bashir didn’t know if it was worth the effort.  
“I love you,” he said.

“You don’t,” said Garak, “you can't."

“I do. Please, let me stay."

“If I did that,” said Garak, “I couldn’t respect myself."

“It isn’t a sin to love someone, Garak."

“A sin,” repeated Garak. “Your human concept again.”

“I love you."

“But you don’t. You only want me. Now, get out."

Bashir, defeated, headed for the door. He looked back several times before he reached it, looking for even an inch of regret from Garak.

“Please,” he begged. “Let me stay."

Hesitation. Bashir inched back towards him again. “Please,” he repeated.

“On the couch,” said Garak.

Bashir smiled. “Thank you, Garak."

He took the couch while Garak retreated back to his room.

But it was awfully lonely on the couch, turned into the cushions. Bashir tossed and turned restlessly. He needed to reach out to Garak. He needed to hold him in his arms.

He got up and wandered over to Garak’s room. He lay there, his back to Bashir.

“Hey, Garak?” whispered Bashir.

No answer.

Cautiously, he settled into the bed behind Garak, wrapping his arms around his waist.

He fell right to sleep.

5\. Envy

This was not the place to be feeling like this. This was war, and here was Bashir pining after Garak.

But he was busy; he had work to do. There was a great need for doctors during war, especially during bad fortunes like this. The Defiant was constantly on the back foot from the Dominion, and casualties continued to stream into his sick bay. 

This was not exactly the best time to be thinking of romance, but there were times when Bashir couldn’t help it. He tried to restrict himself to only thinking of Garak in his downtime, usually while hidden away in his quarters, but there were times when he couldn’t help but to look longingly after him.

It had been one month since they had fled from the station in the Defiant, and although he was grateful that he still got to be close to Garak where so many others were separated, Bashir had his hands far too full to spare much time for Garak at all.

Stress was getting to Bashir. Working up into a heat, he zipped down the front of his uniform, imagining even now what Garak might think of it.

But he couldn’t allow himself to linger on it too long. If he wasn’t tending to the wounded in the Infirmary, then he was on the Bridge aiding the crew.

Bashir could tell Garak was getting jealous of everyone around Bashir stealing the good doctor’s attention from him. He didn’t blame him; he had really begun to miss Garak during particularly strenuous shifts, begun to miss the spare time together life on the station had afforded him.

It was rare that they got that time together anymore. Even when they did, Bashir didn’t know what to do with it anymore. Things had grown strange between them lately.

Ever since last year, when Bashir had insinuated himself into Garak’s bed and Garak had kicked him roughly out the next morning, Bashir didn’t really know what they were, or even if Garak still trusted him. It had been a betrayal, he had seen it in Garak’s eyes.

But now? He wasn’t so sure.

Sometimes, he felt Garak’s eyes on him. Sometimes he looked back, just for a moment. What he saw threw him. It wasn’t enough for Garak just to be in his company anymore, he needed to be seen.

But out here, there wasn’t much chance of that.  
Bashir blushed and turned back to his work, trying to put the thoughts out of his mind that suddenly filled him. He ignored the growing blush in his body, and tingling in his chest as he worked, forcing his mind to focus on that.

He didn’t even notice when Garak left.

When his shift ended, he immediately went looking for Garak again. He stopped dead when he found him talking to Jadzia.

It was illogical, irrational, absolutely mad, he knew that. But when he saw that, fear filled Bashir. He wouldn’t blame Garak if this distance that had grown between them was pushing him away. For just a moment, Bashir feared it was pushing him away into Jadzia’s arms.  
Jealousy. After all, his two not-quite-exes talking together had to spell trouble, didn’t it?

Then Jadzia turned and flashed him a wicked grin. “Ah, Julian,” she said. “There you are."

“Jadzia?” asked Bashir. “What are you doing here?"

“Just boarded. It’s so great to be reunited with Worf. Which is why I want to do the same for you."

“What do you mean?"

“Oh, please, Julian. A blind man could see it. I know we’re all under stress right now, but that’s no reason to shut him out. Now, I’m going to leave you two alone. You had better make up while I’m gone."

She left, and Bashir was left alone with Garak.

He blushed, before moving towards Garak. "I've noticed you watching me,” he said.

“I was jealous of the close attention and, truth be told, concern you showed to your patients that you denied me."

“I understand that,” said Bashir. “Truth be told, I was jealous of you and Jadzia just now."

“My dear doctor, believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about there.”

“I believe you,” said Bashir. “I’m sorry if I have been avoiding you. Last year, when I confessed I loved you, I got the distinct impression you didn’t feel the same. So I backed off."

“That night, I was feeling particularly down on myself. It is not a reflection on how I truly feel for you."

“And how is that?” asked Bashir.

In answer, Garak merely kissed him. Bashir embraced him, pulling him in deeper.

“With deep affection,” Garak answered when at last they surfaced again. “And,” he confessed, “no small amount of love.”

6\. Sloth

It felt so good to be back on the station, and in his old familiar quarters again. The only thing Bashir regretted about the re-taking of the station was the loss of Ziyal in the process. She was an innocent, and didn’t deserve to die. The only reason she did was for protecting those aboard the station who were resisting the Occupation.

Garak took her loss particularly hard. It was not because he felt anything akin to love for Ziyal, but what they shared was a kind of kinship, a shared mind and experiences, and to have her suddenly cut loose was like losing a daughter.

Since that time, Garak had developed a habit of sharing Bashir’s bed on hard nights. Bashir let him in without question, and eventually Garak just let himself in and slipped under the blanket that Bashir would lift up for him.

As Garak slipped in behind him one night and wrapped his arms around Bashir’s stomach, Bashir settled back against his chest with a smile. There really was nothing better than this casual intimacy that had developed between them. When Garak held him like this, Bashir never wanted him to let go.

In the morning, he felt Garak’s breath on his ear.

“I must go, my dear,” he whispered.

Bashir turned over to face him. Garak still laid in the bed beside him, but had propped himself up on one arm.

“Mm, no,” said Bashir, still sleepy. “Please stay."

“You have work. And I have my shop."

“No. Stay,” said Bashir, intending to pull him back down onto the bed but pulling Garak on top of him, instead.  
Garak quickly adjusted to his new position. “Well, if you insist, my dear. But just five more minutes,” he said, and kissed Bashir’s lips.

Bashir peeked up at Garak and smiled. Then he pulled Garak down for a much longer kiss.

It was enough of a distraction to keep Garak there for much longer than five minutes. The ensuing lazy exploration of each others’ bodies, then falling right back to sleep, kept both of them fully diverted for the rest of the morning.

When finally someone was sent after them to find them, they found both Bashir and Garak tangled up in each others’ bodies and fast asleep in Bashir’s bed.

7\. Pride

_Chief Medical Officer’s Personal Log_

_Stardate: 52903.9_

Over the past seven years, I’ve had a lot of time to think about my relationship to Garak. I think he has changed me, deeply. He’s a riddle wrapped in a mystery. He also is a man with suspicious morals, at least by Earth standards. The Seven Deadly Sins from Earth’s Christian religion, for example: in the past seven years, he has drawn me into committing every single one.

Does that make me a bad person? By a Christian’s standards, certainly. But I am not a Christian. I believe in feeling honestly, and these so-called sins, each and every one of them, are only emotions. I can’t _believe_ they can be sins; if they were, each and every person would be guilty of them. I can’t abide by Christianity because it places a toxic priority on so-called purity and righteousness, to the exclusion of humanity. 

I am not a bad person. I’m just a little bit in those shades of grey. And I love Elim Garak. I’m in love with him. And I am _proud_ of that.


End file.
